


the kind of world where we belong

by machinewithoutfeelings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, No explicitly shown underaged sex, Omega Otabek Altin, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-01 01:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machinewithoutfeelings/pseuds/machinewithoutfeelings
Summary: Yuri is seventeen, and he is not prepared. Not for any of it. Not for the baby, not for the changes to his relationship with his best friend, not for the secrets of his own past that are just now beginning to come to light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I fucking did it. I wrote ABO/mpreg fight me. In my version of A/B/O there's not too much class division or animalistic stuff...in fact, the whole A/B/O thing here is more of a background setting to a long fucking Yuri Plisetsky character piece. I hope you enjoy my self indulgence.

“You told me you were just sick,” Yuri said. “You said- you said you had an ear infection. Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me the truth?”

“I _did_ have an ear infection,” Otabek said. “I didn’t know that my heat was going to break through at the same time. As for why I didn’t tell you- well, it’s not like I just go around advertising my status to everyone. That’s kind of private? Kind of personal.” He looked down at his lap, and Yuri just wanted to crawl back in there, lick his neck, bite at it, even though neither of them were still in their heat or rut. “I mean, you don’t go around telling everyone you’re an alpha, right? It’s not exactly polite.” 

“But you knew,” Yuri said. 

“Yeah,” Otabek said. “I was going to tell you. Eventually. It was just never the right- I didn’t want you to think I was trying to-”

“Do this?” Yuri asked, softer now. He lay back again, rolling over in bed, pressing his face into the pillow Otabek had been sleeping on. God, it smelled so fucking good? The idea that he hadn’t know Otabek was an omega felt so ridiculous now that he was absolutely swimming in his scent, spicy sweet and something raw, like oranges and cloves and cinnamon. Okay, now that was ridiculous, sounding like a line from stupid presentation YA novel. He turned to face Otabek again. “Listen, you don’t have to be all nervous,” he said, because it was throwing Yuri off, seeing Otabek like this. He was supposed to be cool and confident, not looking like he could break apart from a wrong word from Yuri. It was disturbing, but also made Yuri feel like he wanted to protect him, and _that_ was some stupid biology at work. He reached to Otabek, touched his still-bare thigh. “I mean, I wanted something to happen. With, you know. Us. I just didn’t expect it to be like this.”

He was fucking cute when he blushed. Yuri had already known that Otabek was prone to blushing and he loved it, the way the flush under his skin made it look like it would be warm to the touch. Because he could, and because they were in bed together, and because he had just been inside of him all night long, Yuri did reach out and touch. He started with the cheek, yes, warm, and then moved on to wrapping his arms all the way around Otabek, who pulled him close, balanced his chin on his shoulder, kissed the inside of his neck.

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Yuri said, and it was easier to say into his skin. There had never been anyone but Otabek, even if he had been too afraid to ask. Otabek’s legs pushed between Yuri, tangling them up in the bed as they tried to touch as much bare skin as possible.

“Me too,” Otabek said. “Maybe it is best it happened this way then- I think would have been too scared to upset our friendship if it hadn’t.”

Yuri hmmed, nudging his nose against Otabek’s neck where the scent was strongest. He thinks he wants to bite him. He knows he can’t, not now, but he might. In the future. 

“You’ll be mine, then?” he asked, and his voice sounded small and cracked. He immediately started to overanalyze it, how stupid his words were and how weak his voice sounded, but Otabek just wrapped a hand in his hair and pulled back on it, so they were now nose to nose. 

“I’m yours, Yura,” he said, and their noses bumped, and Yuri was too excited to kiss him again to even land his lips properly. He tried again and succeeded, and they trade soft, quiet kisses with gaspy breaths in between.

“I am, too,” Yuri said, lips slick with Otabek’s saliva. “Yours, I mean.”

 

Mila had been in Yuri’s hair all day, but even she wasn’t annoying him as much as Mr. and Mr. Drunken Cuddles across the table. Viktor was trying to feed Yuuri a piece of cake while holding his _fifth_ drink in his other hand, and he was failing spectacularly, sloshing vodka and mineral water all over Yuuri’s lap. 

“I don’t need _cake_ ,” Yuuri slurred, already pressing his lips close to the frosting. “I’m an _athlete_ on a _strict diet_.” 

“And as your coach, I must insist,” Viktor murmured, pushing it past Yuuri’s lips. “You need the energy for the extra cardio training I’m adding to your schedule. Tonight.” Yuuri practically sucked Viktor’s fingers into his mouth so that he could lick every trace of sugar off. Yuri felt like he was about to shatter his glass in his hands.

“Could you sick fucks please take your foreplay elsewhere? No one wants to see your disgusting shit!”

“Aww,” Mila said, draping her arms around Yuri’s shoulders. She was well on her way to being wasted, too- was Yuri the only one who wasn’t drunk? “Our birthday boy is just upset that his lover isn’t here to celebrate with us.” 

“I’m _not_ ,” Yuri said, even though that was definitely part of it. He knew that it was unreasonable of him to expect his boyfriend to make the trip to Russia just for his birthday when they were mere weeks away from Worlds. He did get jealous, though, watching those two assholes and wishing he had someone to give him sloppy drunk cheek kisses and hand feed him cake. He knew that they would probably go back to their beautiful apartment and wear each other out in a million different positions. Yuri hadn’t had sex since December, and even though he’d been holding it together as a virgin before, that night had released a degree of horniness unlike he’d ever known before. He just wanted to fuck _all_ the time, but Otabek was in Kazakhstan. It was his birthday, and he’d probably just be stuck with his hand tonight, hopefully with Beka on the other side of the phone.

If he was even that lucky.

And that was the real core of what was bothering him, even more than missing his  
boyfriend and being sexually frustrated. For the last few days, Otabek had barely been talking to him. He understood needing to keep focused before a competition, but come the fuck on. He had gotten a total of one text today ( _happy birthday, yura_ , with a cake emoji) and that was, Yuri decided, complete bullshit. They had only been together three months. Was Otabek really getting tired of him that quickly?

“Give me that,” Yuri said, yanking the drink Viktor wasn’t even paying attention to out of his hand. He downed it in one gulp and almost immediately regurgitated it all over the table. He wasn’t a big drinker, and that had almost definitely been straight vodka. Mila snorted into his hair and ordered him another drink, what she was having, something fizzy that tasted that lemon and raspberry. It was still strong enough, though, and after two more he was up on the dance floor with Mila’s arms slung over his shoulders. 

“Don’t be sad, baby boy,” she said, swinging her hips towards his and playing with his hair. Mila could touch him as much as she wanted and even though he pretended to get annoyed, Yuri tolerated it, because he knew that coming from her it was completely platonic. “You’re seventeen, you need to smile. Forget about him right now.” Mila had had a lot of shitty boyfriends, and Yuri felt like it made it hard for her to understand his problems, because Otabek wasn’t like any of them. He tried to lean into it, dance and let the music pound into his head and cancel out his thoughts, but then he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He slipped it out when Mila’s head was turned and there was Otabek’s name, bright on the screen. He tapped out and ducked out of her arms before she could say anything, holding up his phone and pushing through the crowd so that he could get somewhere quieter. The bathroom wasn’t much better, and the call had ended by then, so Yuri slipped out of the club onto the cold as fuck side street. His coat was still inside, and it was snowing.

He called Otabek back. 

He answered on the fourth ring, which was kind of stupid if he had just been trying to call Yuri. There was still a lot of noise coming from the club and from the street, so Yuri covered his other ear with his cold hand as he held the phone up to his ear. 

“Are you somewhere?” was the first thing Otabek said. “Is it a bad time?” 

“It’s a bad time only because you waited until almost midnight on my fucking birthday to call me,” Yuri said, meaner than he meant it to come out. He wanted to take the words back almost instantly, smooth them out, because all he had wanted all day was to hear Otabek’s voice and now he was ruining it. 

“I’m sorry.” Otabek’s words sounded closed off. “I know.”

“You still love me, right?” Yuri asked, and he knew the words sounded a lot pathetic after three days of low text volume. He realized after he said them that he felt drunker than he thought, because he should have had enough control to keep them from slipping out. He leaned against a brick wall, feeling wobbly on his feet. 

“Of course, Yura.” His voice was warm in Yuri’s ear, and he pressed his phone harder against it to keep him closer. “I’m sorry, I am. I love you so much. I’ve just been scared.” 

Otabek couldn’t be scared. Otabek moved all around the world by himself from when he was just a kid, he rescued Yuri on the back of his motorcycle in Barcelona, he DJ-ed in packed night clubs and lifted and talked Yuri to sleep after he made the mistake of watching that movie with the creepy clown. Otabek sounded like he was about to cry, right now.

“ _Scared_?” Yuri said. “Scared, why are you _scared_?” Yuri was scared. Snowflakes were landing on his bare arms, but he didn’t even feel that cold. 

“I’m not going to be competing at Worlds,” Otabek said. “I was scared to tell you that.”

_What?_ That didn’t even make any sense. All they had been talking about since the GPF was when they would get to see each other at Worlds. Yuri thought about it every time he stepped on the ice. Otabek loved competing as much as he did. Otabek wasn’t a quitter, had no reason to quiet. Otabek was worth fucking gold. And now he wasn’t- _what?_

He was trying to think and listen to Otabek at the same time, but it was difficult. He was talking about- his ear infection? What? Yuri let his back slide down the brick until he was sitting on the filthy ground. 

“The antibiotics- I didn’t read the warning labels because they were in French, and I guess the doctor didn’t read my chart and realize I was an omega. I should have known, I was stupid. I should have said something before now. I took a pregnancy test last week but I didn’t want to tell you until I knew what I wanted. That was- I should have told you. I’ve been acting unfairly.”

“You’re...wait, what?” Yuri suddenly felt every shot and cocktail of the night wrenching up inside of him. He jumped up to try to aim for a trash can, but slipped on an icy patch and vomited all over the pavement instead, dropping his phone somewhere in the process. Fuck, fuck. He got down on his hands and needs, feeling around through the snow for where it could have fallen. 

He found it where it slid between two boxes. He held it to his ear and it probably hadn’t been as long as it felt, because Otabek was still going, “Yuri? Yuri?”

“I dropped my phone,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “I’m drunk. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Otabek said, but he certainly didn’t sound okay. 

Yuri felt a hand on his shoulder, then two under his armpits, pulling him off the ground. His pants were wet with snow and his own throw up. Some of it might have also been in his hair. “Viktor, can you get a cab?” he heard someone say, and then Mila was in front of him, patting a hand on his cheek. 

“I let you drink way too much,” she said, sticking her lip out in a pout. Yuri realized it must be Yuuri holding him. He felt him peel his fingers from around his phone and take it from him.

“Otabek? This is Yuuri. No, he’s going to be okay. He just needs some water and sleep. We’re taking him back to our place so we can keep a watch over him.” A pause. “I’ll tell him. You don’t have to worry. I’ll have him call you in the morning.”

“Beka,” Yuri said, reaching for his phone, but Yuuri stuffed it in his own pocket. 

“I brought you water,” Mila said, holding a cup to his lips. Yuri drank and drank and drank it, until Viktor came back to take his hand and guide him along to the cab.

 

He woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a dead-on view of Viktor’s ass in a tiny pair of black underwear. 

“Fuck!” he said, hiding his face back under the blanket that had been draped over him. “Put on some pants, moron, no one wants to see that!”

“You’re awake!” Viktor said. Something was sizzling in a pan in front of him. It smelled like sausages. “Please, I’m in my own home. And I know at least one person who wants to see this.” 

“Lots of people do.” Yuri dropped the blanket. Yuuri was sitting at a table with a mug of something hot in his hands. “But only we get to. Lucky, aren’t we?” He smiled at Yuri. “I made coffee. Come get some.” 

“I don’t want to move,” Yuri said, but he slid his legs off the side of the sofa. He was wearing unfamiliar pajama pants. “Huh?”

“Yours got...dirty,” Yuuri said, taking a sip of coffee. “They’re in the wash.” 

Fuck. Yuri put a hand to his head, which he was obviously lucky wasn’t pounding. That was right. He’d had a lot to drink. He’d gone outside? And he had spoken with-

“Otabek.” Yuri jumped up. “Where’s my phone?”

“It’s right here,” Yuuri said, sliding it across the table. “We also charged it. Why don’t you sit down and eat something first?” 

“Not right now,” Yuri said. His heart was pounding as he pieced together the remnants of last night’s conversation in his mind. He picked up his phone, and there were multiple texts from Otabek, but they were all pretty basic. 

_Sleep well._

_Call me in the morning._

_I love you._

He headed towards the bathroom without another word. Okay, so he was pretty drunk the night before. There was a high probability that in his inebriated state, he had wildly misunderstood the conversation that he barely been a part of. Because he couldn’t really- Yuri had misinterpreted what he said. He barely remembered having the conversation, just Otabek’s voice, low and nervous. Like Yuri had never heard it. He closed the door behind him and sat down on the toilet. He touched Otabek’s name in his most recent calls.

He answered immediately this time. “Yura.”

“Beka,” Yuri said, and he was hanging his head near his knees. “Hey.”

“Hey. Are you...how are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly okay.” He breathed out. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I have no idea what got into me. You know I don’t normally...I was being stupid.” 

“I’m just glad you’re feeling all right now,” Otabek said. “You scared me last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

The silence sat awkwardly between them. Yuri could hear Viktor and Yuuri in the other room, and Makkachin’s paws clattering against the hardwood as he padded by. Otabek’s breathing from all the way in Almaty.

“Do you...remember what I told you? Last night?” 

“Hmm.” Yuri ran his bare feet over the octagonal tile- the assholes had heated floors, of course they did, and he pressed his toes down into warmth. “Yeah. You’re not going to be at Worlds.”

“And the other thing?”

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re...you’re not really, are you?” A stupid thing to say. Otabek would never lie about something like this. Otabek was the most honest person Yuri had ever known. 

“I’m pregnant,” Otabek said, and the words sober landed much harder than they had the night before. Health classes had always told Yuri that alphas had an immediately protective instinct over their pregnant mates, but Otabek wasn’t officially his mate and all Yuri felt was scared and small and like the floor was about to crack open like thin ice. “My mother took me to the doctor three days ago.”

“Your mother knows?” Yuri rasped out, slightly panicked at the thought.

“Of course my she knows,” Otabek said, like it was a given. This made little sense to Yuri. He knew Otabek was close to both of his parents, and maybe it was a given in families like that to divulge all those kinds of personal details without any fear. Fuck, Yuri realized, he would have to tell his _grandfather_ this. They didn’t have these kinds of conversations. They had “I’m so proud of you, Yuratchka,” conversations and “This tastes great, Dedushka,” conversations.

Pregnant. He knew what it meant, but the thought of it in relation to his boyfriend really was having a hard time locking in his mind. 

“So wait,” Yuri said. “Are you- you want to do this? Why can’t you just-” He let his voice trail off. Just because Otabek was pregnant didn’t mean that he _had_ to stay pregnant. 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Otabek said. He sounded quiet, almost embarrassed. Yuri burned to be with him. “I feel...attached. I don’t think I want an abortion.”

“But you’re an athlete,” Yuri said, growing upset at the idea of Otabek not on the podium next to him. Abandoning the thing he had busted his ass for, twice as hard as Yuri probably, halfway around the world. “This will fuck up your career.”

“I know.”

“And yet you’ve thought about it so hard and made all of these decisions without even talking to me about it? You keep not telling me things. Otabek, I’m not even- I’m not ready for something like this.”

“I apologized for shutting you out,” Otabek said. "I’ve just been...all over the place. I wanted to figure things out first. I didn’t want to come to you a complete mess.”

“You’re supposed to be able to be a mess with me!” Yuri said. “You’re my boyfriend, and even more, you’re my best friend. This is just- _Beka_. Everything was fine and now this is just happening. This is happening?”

“...yeah. Yuri, I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing to me! It makes me feel like an asshole!” Yuri gripped the material of his pajamas bottoms until it felt like they were going to rip. “I love you. I just don’t know what the fuck you want me to do now. You’ve apparently decided without even telling me that you’re going to ruin your career and...what? Have a baby? You’re in Almaty and I’m in St. Petersburg. How does that work?” 

“I don’t have an answer for all of these things right now. I don’t know what we’re going to do; I just know what I _don’t_ want to do. It’s really hard to explain how I feel right now. You don’t know how it- I was worried that you would be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I am just fucking hungover and I just turned seventeen and this is a lot? I wish you were here. This is hard to talk about on the phone. I can’t really...imagine it. How the hell, Beka?” 

“You knotted me like four times in a night,” Otabek said, and the statement made Yuri flush red, even if he had done exactly that. “So, uh, that’s how.”

Yuri felt the slightest tinges of what could be alpha pride. Yeah, he had. It had been the greatest night of his entire life, and it had gotten Otabek fucking _pregnant_? With his baby. A baby that would be a mix of the two of them. Yuri didn’t know anything about babies. He had never been around one, and never held one in his entire life. But he knew that he loved Otabek, and if he was every going to have kids, as abstract of an idea that had been until just now, he knew that he wanted them with him. He sat up and took a deep breath. 

“So what did the doctor say?”

“What?”

“Is it okay? I don’t know shit about these things, so you’re going to have to tell me. Did the doctor say everything was alright with you and- and the- you know.”

Warmth seem to creep back into Otabek’s voice as he answered, and Yuri gripped the phone tighter. “The baby and I are both fine,” Otabek said, and fuck, Yuri could feel tears coming up in his eyes. “The due date is September 5. I have an...ultrasound? If you want me to text it to you.”

“Yes,” Yuri said.

He stared down at his phone, waiting for the image to come through. He gulped, and pulled his feet up under him on the cool porcelain, the floor having become uncomfortably warm. He watched the three little dots move around on the screen until finally the image popped up onto the screen, the only words under it “ _baby, 11 weeks_ ”. Yuri clicked on it and stared.

It looked a lot more like a baby than he had expected it to. He could see the head, the body, what was possibly a little foot pushed up. It looked like _that_ , when a few months ago it hadn’t even existed. It was-

“I want it,” Otabek said, and Yuri knew Otabek’s determined voice when he heard it. “I want it, and maybe that’s stupid, but I can’t help it.”

“You’re not stupid. We’ll figure this out.”

“I should have talked to you about this before, though.”

“Yeah, you should have. I don’t know if I would have dealt with it any better, though.” Yuri wiped at his eyes with his wrist. “Maybe it would have been better if I didn’t have to pull myself together and go face Viktor and Katsudon. I’m locked in their bathroom right now.”

“Their bathroom? Oh, Yura.” Otabek laughed softly, and Yuri wanted to trap the sound in a jar so that he listen to it anytime he cracked the lid. 

“They’re probably going to grill me as to what’s going on if I come out there all sniffling with red eyes. I’ve already been in here so long they must know there is drama going on. I should go.” He slipped his feet out from under him, stood up and almost felt as unsteady on his feet as when he was drunk the night before. He cradled his phone next to his head and slumped against the sink. His stomach felt like it was in knots, and he didn’t want Viktor trying to shove a big, burned breakfast down his throat. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Otabek said. 

“Keep texting me. I just need a little bit of-”

“Time to process this,” Otabek finished. “I know. I had that time; I should give you yours. Bye, Yura.”

“Bye, Beka,” Yuri said, and when he hung up the phone he threw it in a basket of towels and turned on the faucet. He splashed his face a few times with very cold water, then rubbed at it hard with a washcloth until it was red and blotchy. He tried to calm his breathing, but every few seconds his brain screamed at him again that Beka was _pregnant_ , that they were fucked, and (a very small part in the back of his brain) that he should have bonded with him back in that hotel room when he had the chance. 

He grabbed his phone, guiltily scrolling past new texts from Otabek. He wondered for a second if he should ask Otabek before telling anyone, but it was his news, too, wasn’t it? How could he ever tell any one this? His life, too, that was going to be eternally altered. And he had no clue what he was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we are one (1) million years later
> 
>  
> 
> _in which i procrastinate for almost a year, become way more interested in the b plot in my head and remember that otabek is one hard motherfucker to write especially from outside his pov_

Yuri was curled up in his bed, Potya tucked against his chest. The lights were out, he had about five blankets piled on top of him and his earbuds were plugged into the phone tucked under his pillow, held to where he could speak into it.

“I’ve ruined our lives.”

“You have not.” Yuuko’s voice crackled into his ears. “Things will change, but it is not impossible. At least it isn’t three.”

Yuri shot up from his cocoon, sending Potya scrambling and blankets flying. “You don’t think it could be more than one? I didn’t even think about that. What if it’s more than one?!” 

“This definitely looks like only one baby. You need to keep calm. Otabek is probably panicking even worse than you.”

“He doesn’t act like it,” Yuri grumbled, wrapped too arms around his pillow and hugging it to his chest. In his memory, Otabek sounded so assured about the decision. Otabek knew about kids- he had a little sister, his older siblings had children, he had more cousins than Yuri could count. He had met a large amount of them at a family party the summer before when he had visited Almaty, when he was just Otabek’s friend. It had been uncomfortable to say the least. So many people, and they all wanted to talk to him, touch him, ask him questions. He’d found a corner to hide in with his phone until Otabek had noticed. Yuri had worried he was in for a lecture about being rude, but Otabek had just put a hand on his shoulder and asked if he wanted to for a ride. They’d gotten on his motorcycle and rode down to a lake and had spent the rest of the day having fun, just the two of them.

 _Fuck_ , he loved Otabek. 

“I don’t know anything about babies.”

“Neither did we. You learn.”

“I don’t even live on my own,” Yuri said, feeling like a kid for the first time in years. “I don’t even live with family. I live with Lillia. I can’t tell her what I did. This is so embarrassing!”

“My younger sister found my positive pregnancy test where I’d hidden it in the bathroom,” Yuuko said. “She brought it out in front of my whole family. That was very bad.”

“Otabek’s family already knows. At least, his parents do.” 

“How are they feeling about it?”

“He didn’t say. Every time we talk we barely bring it up. I don’t know what to say, Yuuko. I’m still…”

“Shh. Worries can come later. You should just get some rest, and then talk to your boy.”

Yuri groaned, letting his head flop back on the pillow. He had a million questions, yet at the same time he was terrified to talk to Otabek again. He ended the call and flipped over, debating between screaming into his pillow for the next hour and getting up and actually eating something. He had no appetite- he had basically pushed the food Yuuri and Viktor had given him around the plate for twenty minutes. He begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, taking his blanket with him as he hobbled down to the kitchen. Lillia was out town; thank god for that miracle. Yuri didn’t know what he would do if he had to suffer through pretending he was fine while secretly marinating in self-pity. 

He found some frozen terrible food he hid behind vegetables in the freezer and threw it in the microwave, hopping up on the kitchen island to scroll through his phone while it cooked. Instagram didn’t hold much interest for him- too many people had been @-ing him asking why Otabek wasn’t going to be at Worlds and he didn’t think he could stand to watch them speculate. He wasn’t prepared how he would feel if someone actually stumbled across the correct answer. No one knew that Otabek was an omega, but still. He moved over to the internet browser. Yuri had been trying to read some of stuff to try to get a better grasp of what Otabek was going through. He had had found a subreddit for omega pregnancy that was interesting, but had gotten too wrapped up reading some threads about pregnancies gone wrong and had been afraid to venture back. 

It was bullshit, the entire thing. He loved Otabek, so he wanted to be supportive, but every time Yuri thought about actually having a baby it made him feel almost nauseous. The whole ‘being a dad’ thing. What was that, even? What was expected of him? What could he do for a kid? He didn’t know the first thing about fathers. Yuri only knew how to do two things, really- skate and love Otabek Altin, and he was going to try his hardest not to fuck up either. 

 

  


“Yuratchka! You’re sloppy! Tighten up your leg; you’re skating like a newborn fawn!”

Yuri gritted his teeth, then moved into his next jump. He missed the landing somehow, like a fucking child, and went tumbling across the ice. Shouting a string of curses and ignoring Yakov yelling at him from the side of the rink, Yuri rose up on his skates again and skated to the exit. He immediately sat down on the ground, yanking at his laces. Fuck this. Fuck this. His head had been in a fog all morning, thinking about Worlds. How he would have to see Otabek. How he felt like a complete asshole that seeing his boyfriend, whom he loved, felt shrouded in total dread now. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Yakov growled as he approached. “Get back out there on the ice. You are not done.”

“I am for now,” Yuri said. “I’m leaving. I’m garbage out there anyway today, so what’s the point?!”

“You want to go home? You want to skip Worlds, go back to Moscow, get a job slapping labels on cans in a factory? You can do that if you like, or you can get back out on the ice. Those are your two options.”

Yuri tugged a skate off with a force that sent it out of his hands into the low cement barrier. He didn’t care, just moved on to the other one. 

“You are throwing a tantrum now,” Yakov said. “Do I bother to ask why? Or do I just send you home to pout and tell you that you can forget about going to Milan in two days?” Yuri kept his eyes on the shoes he was tieing, because he realized that his eyes were filling up with tears. He was just _angry_ , these were _pissed off tears_ and he couldn’t help it, but he didn’t want to start crying like a damn baby in front of his coach. So he stayed there on the ground, trying to blink them away. Yakov sat down on the bench next to him.

“I’m not your therapist,” Yakov said, voice still gruff. “I’m not your friend, or your parent, but I am your coach and if there is something that is affecting you this much right before a competition, maybe we should...talk about it.” He said the last three words as if he was agreeing to having his toenails peeled off. 

“Nothing to talk about,” Yuri lied.

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Yakov said. “I have been around too long, known too many weepy teenagers like you. Is it that Altin boy, then? Dating your competition is not a good idea. You are fighting and now look how your performance crumbles.”

“We’re not fighting,” Yuri mumbled.

“Then enlighten me,” Yakov said, “What causes my best senior skater to start performing like a novice days before an important competition? And how do we stop this?”

“I don’t want to talk about this with _you_ ,” Yuri said, only realizing after he spit the words out that he was pretty much admitting that there was a problem. 

“I ignore my skaters problems and you see where this has gotten me in the past,” Yakov said. “If it is this boy, end it. You don’t need personal dramatics spoiling your routine. I had enough of that with Georgi.”

Yuri had looped an arm around his knee, squeezing it hard and looking at the floor. “You’ll be mad at me if I tell you,” Yuri said finally, his voice sounding clogged up by everything running down his throat. 

“I will,” Yakov said. “You must tell me anyway.”

Yuri swallowed his tears, wiped at his eyes surreptitiously with his jacket sleeve. He hadn’t actually broken the news anyone about this in person yet, spoken the words. When he told Yuuko, he had just sent a text of the ultrasound captioned “ _so i’m in trouble HELP_ ”. 

“I- something is happening that is- you’re not going to like-” He tried to think of the vaguest possible thing he could say and still have Yakov get it. It wasn’t likely to work, Yakov was a straightforward kind of person. “It is about Otabek. I- last time we were together, I found out- I found out that he was an Omega.”

He looked out the side of his blurry eyes, and Yakov’s facial expression stayed stoic, waiting for him to continue.

“And you know I’m- well, you know what I am. Last time we- he’s dropping out of Worlds. Because I- we- he said antibiotics messed with his...birth control?” 

The understanding dawning on Yakov’s face was slow, but maybe it was because he didn’t want to understand. His lips were pressed hard together, and he looked out over the ice. 

“Altin is pregnant?”

“...yes.”

“And you’re certain it’s your child?”

Yuri jumped up on his socked feet, involuntarily releasing a growl from the back of his throat. “Of fucking course it is! What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not saying anything, I’m just getting a grasp of this situation you’ve gotten yourself into, you hot-headed child. Sit down. I’m not insinuating anything about your…” Yakov paused momentarily, not bothering to hide his grimace. “Your mate.” He shook his head, wiping a hand across his forehead. “Always. You children are always finding new ways to try to kill me. You might have surpassed Vitya now, do you know that?” He picked up Yuri’s skates from where he had thrown them and handed them back to him. “There. Now that you have told me this, you should be able to concentrate on your practice.”

Yuri stared at Yakov, numbly accepting them. “So you’re not mad? You’re not going to stop coaching me?”

“Of course I’m mad!” Yakov said, not a shout, but gruff enough to make Yuri bite the back of his lip. “I’m mad, and now I’m worried, and I am mad about being worried. But no, I’m not going to stop coaching you.” He paused, closed his eyes, took a long breath. “I feel bad to say it, but I am at least glad it’s him and not you ruining your body and your career. You need to skate now more than ever, Yuratchka, if you’re going to have a child. A child. You are a child. You’re going to drive me to keep a flask in my coat pocket just to deal with you. Get back out on the ice, boy.”

He grumbled more unders his breath, but as Yuri began to lace up his skates again, Yakov placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll talk to Lillia,” he said, and Yuri nodded, unable to look up at his eyes.

  


 

Yuri would have never expected Yakov to take it better than Lilia, but he did. Lilia, in fact, almost insisted on pulling him from the competition, and she and Yakov had a screaming fight about it on the other side of Yuri’s bedroom wall. Between ‘not your decision!’ and ‘you should have never allowed him to fraternize with that older boy in the first place!’, Yuri packed his luggage with earbuds pressed firmly in his ears. 

When his door finally opened, he yanked one out and looked up. Yakov, standing in the doorway, looked especially red-faced. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and he dapped at it with a handkerchief. 

“You will be sharing a hotel room with me at Worlds,” he said, still sounding out of breath.

“What? But that’s not fair! It’s not like I’m going to get him pregnant _again_!”

“Do you want this fight with her? You fight with her! I am supposed to be free of this!” He grumbled something about ‘this is why we never had children’ as he walked off, and Yuri slammed the door behind him, feeling more like a child than ever but unable to stop himself from fuming. He grabbed his phone, initial response to text Otabek, but then hesitated. He didn’t know how his boyfriend was feeling. He had always been a man of few words, but the words he _had_ chosen were firm, honest. Now it felt like Otabek was slightly holding back, and it scared Yuri. He didn’t want to say anything else than might upset him. 

He started to text Otabek something a little less rage-filled, but then Yuri saw a notification of a message from a number he didn’t recognize pop up at the top of his screen.

 _+44 7911 183474]_  
_Is this Yuri Plisetsky’s number?_

How the hell- looking up the country code, it was from the United Kingdom. Yuri didn’t know how his actual, private number had gotten out to his stalkery fans, but, without a second thought, he deleted the message. He definitely didn’t have time for their bullshit right now. Hopefully it hadn’t got posted up on some message boards. He knew that Viktor had had to change his number more than once because of stuff like this, and Yuri personally thought his fans were even worse than Viktor’s. Crazier, at least. More obsessive. Of course, he didn’t exactly know what Viktor’s fans were like when he was seventeen; Yuri had been too young back then.

He wondered what his fans would have to say when they found out about the baby. He hoped they wouldn’t give Otabek too hard of a time. They hadn’t even publicly revealed that they were in a relationship, though many Angels theorized as much. A weirder subset was staunchly against this idea, though, convinced that _they_ were destined to Yuri’s future spouse.

_Ugh._ The idea of those girls harassing Otabek made Yuri feel sicker than ever about the whole situation. He wanted to do whatever he could to shield Otabek from that. He was supposed to be some kind of protective alpha...right? He was supposed to protect his omega. The omega carrying his fucking baby.

Yuri grimaced and rolled over on his stomach. He brought up his message thread with Otabek.

_[Yuri]  
So Yakov and Lillia know...i hope that’s okay_

Yuri didn’t even have time to put his phone down on the mattress before he could see Otabek typing. 

_[Beka]  
It’s fine, they had to find out sooner or later. Did it go all right?_

_[Yuri]  
Eh. Yakov was pissed but chiller than I expected. Lillia lost her shit way more than i expected. _

_[Yuri]  
They want me to room with Yakov at Worlds?? Like they need to watch my every move or something. _

_[Yuri]  
I wanted to sleep with you_

Yuri scrunched up his face and put down his phone screen first. He had, really. He remember the last time he and Otabek had been able to fall asleep curled around each other and it had been one of the most mind-blowing experiences of his life. Almost as much as the sex itself. He had never really had a chance to experience intimacy before, physical or emotional, and slowly falling asleep with his face tucked right next to his omega’s scent glands had been the most comforting, wonderful, amazing thing. He had known about love as a concept, but had never anticipated what actually feeling it would be like. 

He wanted it again, especially now that Otabek was pregnant. It was still so abstract to him- he wanted to feel it under his palm, smell it on his boyfriend’s skin- maybe then he would be able to get a grip.

Also, Yuri wanted to have sex again. He was seventeen. It was fucking normal, but he doubted that he would have the chance under Yakov’s watchful eye.

He turned his phone over to be greeted by a few more messages from Otabek.

_[Beka]  
I wanted that, too. We’ll still be together though._

_[Beka]  
I really can’t wait to see you. I’ve been a little sick. I think...being physically close to my alpha will help?_

_[Beka]  
Is that weird to say? I’m sorry. I’ve also been basically living off mint tea and chocolate cookies. Everything else is just gross. _

Yuri felt like he had no base of knowledge for how he should act. Everything felt like grasping at straws, feeling even more out of his depth than he did when he and Otabek first became friends. At least at that point there hadn’t felt like so much at stake. At least when they had first gotten together, he had been running on pure instinct and hormones. Now he felt the weird pressure to be some kind of big protective alpha that he didn’t even know how to be and he didn’t even feel like Otabek would even need. He wouldn’t want to be doted on like gross-ass Katsudon and Viktor would dote on each other, would he? Yuri didn’t even know if he could do more than send a line of vaguely sympathetic emojis before rolling over to scream in his pillow.

  


_[blurry side image of Otabek standing in baggage claim area, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, carry-on slung over his shoulder, looking down at his phone]_

**skatetrash69-420** so if otabek altin dropped out of worlds can anyone tell me why the FUCK i just saw him at malpensa #mightysuspicious #otabekaltin #milan #worlds2018 #helooksfinebytheway #sowhydidhebail

 **hero-of-cutezakhstan** @skatetrash69-420 all illnesses and injuries aren’t visible don’t be a fucking asshole otabek is probably just there to cheer on his friends #notyourfuckingbusiness #dontbeajerk

 **that-angel-life** omg don’t act so holier than though like you’re not even curious @hero-of-cutezakhstan #weareallthirsty #otamystery2018

 **binktoplicker** he’s really tight with plisetsky now right are they together 

**chulasunshine** isn’t yuri plisetsky like 10 and otabek altin like 45 #weirdoshippers #dontcomeatme #itssarcasm #butalsoseriously

 **plisetskaya** they are NOT TOGETHER jfc can two guys not just be friends

 **binktoplicker** listen @plisetskaya every since #viktuuri happened i have no more limits anything is possible #isotayurireal #haschristophefuckedhiswaythroughtheisu #arethecrispinotwinsinlove

_[photo of Otabek in the same baggage claim area, carry-on dropped with his arms around someone without their face visible, but with blonde hair braided halfway down their back]_

**skatetrash69-420** ohoho you were saying #canconfirmthatis #yuriplisetsky #otayuri #friendlyfriendswholovefriending #otamystery2018 

  


 

Yuri spent the entire cab ride to the hotel with his face tucked into Otabek’s shoulder, trying to ignore Yakov’s hmphs of disapproval from the other side of him. He didn’t care. Anyone could have seen him like this and Yuri would just blindly give them the finger without moving his face from position. 

After they checked in, Yakov looked at Yuri like he expected him to follow, but Yuri just offered him a scowl instead. “We have some things to talk about, so could be have like, an hour of privacy? I swear I won’t get into any fucking trouble.” He looked over at Otabek, who just kept a neutral face, though Yuri couldn’t help but notice the hands he had awkwardly shoved in his pockets while trying to avoid Yakov’s face. Yakov just gave a grunt and told Yuri exactly what time he expected Yuri to be back by. 

Yuri trailed behind Otabek as they made their way up to the hotel room, keeping hold of his warm, rough hand. He looked the same. Yuri didn’t know what he had been expecting. He’d googled plenty of pictures of “13 weeks pregnant”, knowing that is where Otabek would be when they were finally reunited, but the images varied wildly. Some people had a big round bump, while others had flat stomachs that were unidentifiable as pregnant. Otabek was wearing a pretty loose t-shirt. Yuri wondered what he looked like under it. 

When the door finally shut behind them, Yuri let his fingers thread out of Otabek as he watched him pull his rolling suitcase to the middle of the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a foot up on the luggage, before pushing off softly and dropping flat on his back. He rolled his head over to look at Yuri, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “ _Well?_ ” 

Yuri launched himself at Otabek. He was careful not to land on him when he jumped on the bed, but he tussled to get his arms around him and pull Otabek slightly on top of him, so that their limbs were tangled and Yuri’s face again was pressed into the sweet and spicy scent of his neck. He was delicious. Without thinking, Yuri stuck a tongue out to taste the skin, and was rewarded with the feel of Otabek shivering in his arms.

“So,” Otabek said, when they finally adjusted to a position where their eyes could meet. He pressed a light kiss to Yuri's lips. “Are we going to talk now?”

“How are you feeling?” Yuri asked, curling a hand around Otabek’s waist, fingers just creeping under the bottom of his t-shirt so that he could feel his skin. So warm. “You were...you said you’ve been feeling sick. Are you feeling sick today?” Yuri didn’t know how to mention the other thing Otabek had said, about maybe feeling better when he was close to his alpha. He knew that he was Otabek’s alpha, if you got technical, but it felt weird and big-headed of Yuri to refer to himself as that. 

“Mama made me some soup,” Otabek said. “It’s a very mild broth. She said she lived on it when she was pregnant with me- said that she was sick the entire time, right up until the day I was born.”

“But I thought morning sickness was for the first trimester!” Yuri said. “You’re in the second now, right? You’re thirteen weeks.” 

“I am,” Otabek said, and he was smiling a little. “Every pregnancy is different. It doesn’t follow a perfect timeline. I am feeling a little better, though. Not as a sick as I was last week.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he reached and took Yuri’s hand. He guided it from where it rest on his back, to the front, rucking up his shirt with the other hand. He pressed Yuri’s palm flat over the middle of his stomach. He didn’t look pregnant, really. To anyone else, his stomach would still probably seem completely flat. Yuri could see the change, though, a softness to it that hadn’t been there before. His chiseled hard stomach had given way to something with just an edge of roundness. Yuri rubbed his thumb over it, struck kind of dumb in the moment. He looked up at Otabek with wide eyes. 

“Please let me know when I act like a fuck up,” he said.

“What?”

Yuri closed his eyes, then looked back down at Otabek’s stomach, his hand clutched Otabek’s hip softly. “I’m going to fuck up,” he said. “A lot. I’ve already done plenty of it. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t want to fuck up the same way twice, so you have to tell me. I don’t know about any of this shit. About babies, about fathers, about being a good boyfriend. I don’t even know how not to be a complete asshole most of the time, though it’s easier with you.” Goddamn it, he was going to cry. Yuri felt his eyes going wet, and he wiped at them with the heel of one palm. “I want to do all the dumb alpha shit that you deserve. It’s going to be really hard from a distance, but I want to take care of you, and take care of our- our baby.”

“We can take care of each other, Yura.”

“Damn it, I know that! That’s what I meant. I love you, that’s all I’m saying. Just being close to you makes me feel sick to my stomach. Not in a bad way, but in a nothing has ever felt this important before and it’s terrifying kind of way.” He bit his lip. “It’s the size of a peach.”

“What?” 

“The baby,” he said, crawling down to where he could be face to face with Otabek’s stomach. “It’s the size of a little piece of fruit. That already seems pretty big to me. Like it was something that didn’t exist four months ago and now it could fill out of the palm of your hand.” Yuri pressed his palm back onto the bottom of Otabek’s mostly-flat belly. He knew that sometime soon he would actually be able to feel something moving around in there, but Yuri could barely grasp the idea yet. He knew it as fact, but it still seemed so far removed from reality. “I wish I could be doing more for you.”

“We have a long way to go, Yura,” Otabek said. “We don’t have to work it all out right now. Right now, I just need you to win gold. Everything else can come later.”

Yuri nodded, moving back up so that Otabek could wrap his arms around him again. The flight had sucked. The last few weeks had sucked. Maybe they could just take a nap together and wake up refreshed. 

He felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. Yuri slid it out and glanced at the screen for a second. It was a call from a number he didn’t know, a foreign country code. He hit ignore and tossed his phone on the ground so that he could curl back into Otabek. He kissed his dark hair and rubbed a hand over his stomach. Just a short nap.

  


 

 **emmywithakeyboard** does anyone know the correct channels to contact @yuriplisetsky? I need to send him a message in a way he’ll definitely see it. 

**yurisangel-of-death** uh yeah @emmywithakeyboard sure let me connect you to his direct line #getinfuckingline #ivebeenhereforages #itsbeen84years 

**littletigerthatcould** no need to be fucking rude @yurisangel-of-death hey @emmywithakeyboard i’m going to dm you the contact info to send fanmail to. Are you a new fan??

 **emmywithakeyboard** yes i had never watched figure skating until recently

 **littletigerthatcould** welcome to the fandom, @emmywithakeyboard!!! every day is a good day to welcome a new #yurisangel #yuriplisetsky #icetigerfam #mygoldenboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me at [machinewithoutfeelings](http://machinewithoutfeelings.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at [machinewithoutfeelings](http://machinewithoutfeelings.tumblr.com)


End file.
